


Earth Would Be Better

by disaster_space_trash



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale and Crowley Met Before The Fall (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Good Omens AU, Heaven, Hell, M/M, Memory Loss, aziraphale forgets crowley, crowley forgets aziraphale, remembering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-06-29 02:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19821124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disaster_space_trash/pseuds/disaster_space_trash
Summary: Before The Fall, Crowley, or Raphael as he was previously known, and Aziraphale were in love.But then Crowley fell. He lost his memories of Aziraphale, his memories of heaven become murky.When Crowley fell, heaven took Aziraphales' memories of him, and any time they were together.Eventually, they both find their way to Earth.





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the headcanon that Crowley and Aziraphale both lost their memories of each other, when Crowley fell.  
> Does something like this probably exist? Yes. But I wanted to write it/do my own take on it, so here we are.
> 
> Also before The Fall Crowley was Raphael, mainly because I think it's a cool headcanon.

“Raphael!” Aziraphale threw his arms around the taller man, “have you heard? The Almighty is making a new thing; hu-mans.” He said it slowly, with the air of someone trying a new dish, not that ‘dishes’ had been invented yet. 

Raphael smiled, pressing a quick kiss to Aziraphales’ cheek, “I have now. Tell me about the humans, angel.” 

Raphael had heard about the humans, which was surprising as he never payed attention to the heavenly meetings, preferring to gaze longingly in the stars, or, more specifically, he’d heard Lucifer complaining about them. 

“Apparently, they’re going to be the best thing She’s created, they’re going to have free will.”

Ah, that was what Lucifer was so wound up about, Raphael thought, the best thing She’s created, he wouldn’t like that much. But what Lucifer couldn’t seem to grasp was that with free will, humans could be remarkable, if they got it right, Raphael mused. 

“Raphael,” Aziraphale said accusatively, scrunching up his nose, and half-heartedly glaring at Raphael, “you’re not paying attention.” 

“Of course, I am! You were saying about the new thing; humans.” 

Aziraphale smiled, making Raphaels’ heart flutter, “Yes, they’re going to be marvellous.”

####  ~~~ 

Raphaels’ veins were throbbing with a sense of urgency he hadn’t felt in, well, ever.

“Lucifer! My man!” Raphael skidded towards Lucifer, his amber hair streaming behind him like a trail of fire. 

The Archangel looked up from where he was lounging, he was rather good at lounging, he could convey all sorts of emotions though it, often distain, Raphael could see him doing rather well with a large chair. 

“What do you want? Raphael, was it?” He lazily examined him, even lounging below him, Lucifer still managed to look down his nose at him. 

“Um, yeah, it is. I was wondering, about the humans, you weren’t going to do anything,” he hesitated, “stupid about them, were you?” 

Lucifer rose, stretching his wings, so that they arched behind him; casting shadows over Raphael. 

“I wouldn’t call it stupid, no, under the circumstances it seems like the most sensible option.” 

“Oh, oh, alright, great, marvellous.” Raphael spun on his heel, away from Lucifer, he needed to get away. 

“Check where your loyalty lies, Raphael,” Lucifers’ eyes flashed, “you wouldn’t want to be on the losing side.” 

Raphaels’ swagger became a little more urgent. 

Over the next few days Raphael was hounded by anxieties, he didn’t want it to all end now, in a presumably terrible way. He poked around, trying to formulate some sort of a plan, even if that plan was just annoying Lucifer enough so that he gave it up as a bad job. It hadn’t worked. He’d prodded, poked, asked, begged, but Lucifer hadn’t budged. 

He’d even gone as far as hanging around Lucifers’ followers, hoping he could find out exactly what they planned to do, so he could perhaps avert it. 

That’s where he was on that fateful day when everything, quite literally, went to hell.  
“Lucifer!” Gabriels’ voice echoed off the surrounding clouds. 

Lucifer smiled slyly, replying politely, “yes, Gabriel?”

“We know what you’re planning, and honestly I can’t believe you’re stupid enough to think you’ll get away with it.” Gabriel advanced, Michael and Uriel by his side, above them thunder growled. 

“Well that’s new.” Raphael muttered to himself. 

“Shut up.” The angel next to him muttered in reply.

“Shut up.” Raphael mocked. 

“I’d’ve thought you were better than this, Lucifer.” 

“Oh, I am,” he looked around him with distaste, “so much better.” 

The lightning cracked, casting a distorted shadow across the floor, Lucifers’ wings seemed skeleton-like, twisted, and darkened. 

Gabriel sighed, to him it felt like dealing with an overly needy child, who just happened to have a sword. 

“If you do not submit, we will be forced to cast you out.” 

“Submit?” Lucifer flicked his wrist, and a blacked sword appeared in his hand. A shiver fell down Crowleys’ spine, the sword felt of death. 

“Yes.” A similar sword appeared in Gabriels hand, except his was a shining gold, that cast long beams of light every time the lighting cracked.  
“You know,” Lucifer began, as he approached Gabriel, “I didn’t intend for there to be a war.” 

“And yet you know there must be.” 

Lucifer nodded, then let out a twisted cry, running at Gabriel. The clang on metal on metal shook the sky, sending Raphael stumbling backwards, as the clouds beneath him shifted. They twisted and cracked, sending shafts of red light through them; the light seemed to burn. Raphael felt like he was being spun in about a hundred different directions at once, only to be stopped and then expected to know which was up, with the added pressure of not dying. Which was quite a lot of pressure. 

Raphael struggled to his feet, shaking his hair out of his face. Around him the yells and the clanging of weapons could be heard, behind it all thunder rolled, like the bass line in a song. 

Suddenly, the clouds shifted again; throwing him to his feet, he coughed, helplessly gazing around him, it all seemed to blur into a spinning mass of light and fire. He couldn’t distinguish faces or voices, he didn’t know if his friends were dying, he didn’t know what happened to Aziraphale. Aziraphale. His heart ached at the thought, he didn’t deserve this, not a war. 

The flash of fire across his vision brought him back to reality. A flaming sword pointed at his face, he could feel the heat and power radiating off it, he instinctively drew back. He looked up to see its owner, then instantly wished he hadn’t. 

“A- aziraphale?” 

The angel stared down at his, his face expressionless. His eyes had lost their usual shine, there was no gentle mercy hidden carefully in his expression, no wonder, no love. Nothing. 

That scared Raphael, more than the hordes of angels throwing themselves at each other, brandished with deadly weapons, more than Lucifer, more than Gabriel. Aziraphale had lost what made him, well, Aziraphale. 

A twisted scream echoed across the battlefield.  
The first death. 

Raphael wasn’t actually sure if angels could die. He supposed he’d find out for himself soon enough. 

A column of fire blazed up from where the fallen angel had stood. Then nothing. 

He looked up at Aziraphale; remembering what he used to look like. The life in his eyes, his soft, blond hair, his gentle face. He was always warm, it made Raphael feel surprisingly safe. He’d felt at home with him. More at home than he felt in heaven. 

This would be the last time he saw him. 

Then the clouds cracked. They splinted like a mirror, jagged scars falling through them, a horrible red light rushed through them, illuminating the battlefield. The thunder screamed, the sound of a wounded animal. 

Raphael was suddenly aware of falling. Although falling felt like an understatement. It was more of a twisting, wrenching feeling, accompanied by a downwards plummet at an incredibly high speed. And then there was the pain. As if falling through a black void, occasionally lit up buy fireworks of screams and fire, wasn’t bad enough. He could feel the flames creeping through his wings; not the soft flames associated with prayer, these were darker, harsher. The flames twisted around the silvery feathers, engulfing them in harsh fire, pulling away the remnants of heaven, burning them black. He twisted, in a feeble attempt to pull away from the fire, but it was relentless; corrupting his wings, and scratching at his skin. 

And yet, the physical pain wasn’t the worst part of falling. It was the loosing everything that made him angelic. The feeling of everything that had made him who he was, the very reason he was created, being carefully pulled away and burnt. He fought it. Of course, he fought it. But how could he resist god? 

He clung to shards of memories. The memories of heaven. Of his angel. They couldn’t take that away from him. They couldn’t.

####  ~~~ 

His first thought was hot. The heat that had been ripping his wings away had dulled, now more of an irritating pull at his skin. His second though was that he was trapped. Squished amongst a mass of bodies, during The Fall, as it would later become known as, it seemed the angels had been granted a new form. Though Crawley, that was his name now, he knew, although he wasn’t sure how, thought it was more mockery than a gift.

Above him, creatures with glowing eyes and spiralled horns towered, drenched in black and red, God seemed to really have gone for a certain aesthetic. A demon, that was what they were now, he wasn’t sure when he’d realised that or if he’d been told, made of barely more that bones rattled past him, their bones clanging together like swords. He was surrounded by fire, and metal, and death, a combination his, admittedly slightly faulty, survival instincts told him he needed to avoid. 

He began to slither, slither? Am I a snake now? That would explain the name, he thought, through the mess of legs and tails and weapons, dodging what appeared to be a very angry figure made up entirely of flies, he made his way to the edge of the mass of demons. From his vantage point he could see that they were already organising themselves into groups, picking the one with the least number of sharp objects and fire, he made his way towards them.

####  ~~~ 

Light drifted in and out of Aziraphales’ perception, the soft spheres danced in front of his eyes, he felt like he was missing something, time? perhaps, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. Around him were walls of cool silver, opposite him a large panel of glass overlooking more silver, except for the white bed he was laying on, the room was empty.

A part of the silver wall fell away and an angel entered, Aziraphale recognised him as Gabriel, causing his to further question his lost time. Why did he remember so little of his time in heaven? 

“Aziraphale?” Gabriel asked, as if checking a mental checklist. 

The angel nodded. 

“What do you remember?” 

Aziraphale paused, his mouth half-open. 

“Well come on, it’s not a trick question.” 

“I- um- nothing much. I don’t remember any specific events, I just know who you, who I am, important things like that.” Aziraphale stumbled over his words, he wanted to know what happened, he didn’t like having a gap. 

Gabriel nodded, “good.” His checklist was complete, everything was in order. 

“What happened?” Aziraphale blurted out. He hadn’t meant to ask; it had just slipped out. 

Gabriel sighed, he hadn’t wanted to waste time, he wanted this job to be over as fast as possible. 

“Lucifer led a group of angels against the Almighty, so She cast them out of heaven, into hell; where they deserve to be. Don’t let it concern you,” he said, “it is all part of the great plan.” With that he spun on his heel and left. 

Aziraphale nodded to the empty room. He’d wanted to ask more. Ask why he didn’t remember. Why it was so important that he didn’t remember. 

It was all part of Gods’ great plan, he tried to reassure himself, it can’t be anything important.

####  ~~~ 

Hell was, if Crawley was being honest, not quite as bad as he’d expected. Sure, the heat was a constant irritation, although he minded less now, he seemed to have inherited several snake-like qualities; such as the need to be warmed to carry on functioning, and there were far too many demons with dangerous weapons than he’d have liked. Though from what he could remember, heaven was rather similar in that category.

He’d managed to avoid most of the powerful or angry demons, and he hadn’t been killed, or even seriously hurt. Which he counted as a win. 

And as soon as he heard demons were getting bodies and being sent up to Earth, he signed up immediately. He’d been instructed to tempt the two new humans, nothing too serious, he suspected that was being saved for the slightly more powerful demons, just enough to annoy God. As far as he was concerned Earth would be far nicer than hell.

####  ~~~ 

When heaven had told Aziraphale he was being sent to Earth he suspected they just wanted him out of the way. Although he didn’t really mind. He’d been paying a lot of attention to the new humans, and they seemed deeply interesting. They had far more emotional depth than the other angels, and Earth seemed filled with colours that weren’t silver.

He’d been instructed to guard the Eastern Gate, and not speak to the humans. Which was something of a disappointment, although he supposed anything would be more interesting than heaven.


	2. The Garden

Aziraphale half-heartedly guarded the eastern gate. He appeared alert, his back straight, and his flaming sword grasped tightly in his hand; he’d already misplaced it twice and was afraid that if he did it a third time a demon would come and steal it. Not that he could really blame them, it would be the sensible thing to do in the situation. 

Truth be told, Aziraphale was bored. The job was nowhere near as interesting as he’d hoped it would be, and whilst at first the novelty of a new planet had kept him entertained, the fact he was forbidden to speak with the humans or leave his post, made the job incredible dull.

Just as he was starting to doze off, another thing he wasn’t meant to do, he heard a voice. He looked around in confusion, the humans didn’t speak to him, he wasn’t sure they knew he was here, and the other angels stuck to the rules.   
“Hey! Angel, over here!”

Aziraphale looked around, finally noticing the rather large, black serpent. He hastily glanced in the direction of the other angels, none of them had noticed the serpent. He wondered if he should shout something about there being a demon inside The Garden, what were you meant to do if the enemy fancied a conversation? 

“Oh, come on angel, don’t be boring.” The serpent hissed. 

The angel sighed. It couldn’t hurt to have a decent conversation with someone, even if that someone was a demon. It was the first time anyone had wanted to speak to him in months. 

Aziraphale hastily made his way towards the demon, his flaming sword clasped tightly in his hand. 

The serpent kept his eyes carefully trained on the sword, “you’re not going to try and kill me with that are you?” 

“What? No.” The angel replied indigently. “Even if I was going to fight you, all I’d want to do would be scare you off.” 

The demon looked a little puzzled, this was not what he’d been expecting from an angel of God, but then again, no angel had previously engaged in conversation with him. The demon decided to follow up on his query. 

“So why did you come and speak to me?” He asked, then immediately wished he hadn’t. 

The angels’ face scrunched up, as if he were in pain, “well, I don’t really know. Oh dear, do you think I shouldn’t have?” 

“Definitely.” But when the angels’ face scrunched up even more, he added, “but then again, God is yet to smite you or anything like that, so it can’t be that bad.”

“But you’re a demon.” Aziraphale replied weakly. 

“But at some point, I was an angel.” 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to argue. But closed it again when he realised what the demon had said was a perfectly fair argument. 

“So, what’s your name?” He said it more of a way to change the subject, he told himself, not that he cared for the answer. 

The serpent paused, this was the first time he’d told someone his new name, except for the demons who did the paperwork in hell. Though that didn’t really count. “It’s Crawley. What’s yours?” 

But before he could answer, a hoard of shouting angels appeared. 

“There was a demon!” The leader offered by way of explanation. 

“Oh?” Aziraphale replied. 

“Did you see it?” 

“Unfortunately, not.” Aziraphale replied, watching the demon disappear behind the angels’ backs, when he noticed Aziraphale watching him he nodded at him. A thank you. 

Having decided Aziraphale was useless to them, the other angels left him alone. 

Now alone, Aziraphale was left to ponder his thoughts. Which obviously circled back to the demon, Crawley. He was not at all what he’d expected from a demon. For a start he was far politer. And more willing to hold a conversation with an angel. Aziraphale suspected he was a rare type, although he didn’t mind. He hated to admit it to himself, but he’d quite liked Crawley. He wondered if he’d see him again.

##  ~~~ 

Crowley was kicking himself. Well, metaphorically kicking himself; he was still in his snake form. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t gotten the angels name. 

He slithered through the desert, internally chastising himself, he was looking for a solid looking bush or tree he could shelter under for that night. Unless someone forced him to, he wasn’t going back to hell anytime soon. 

After a surprisingly short amount of time, Crawley found a nice, leafy bush to sleep under that night. He curled himself into a neat coil, tucking his head between two layers of the coil, to keep warm. Although, technically, demons didn’t need to sleep, Crawley found it oddly comforting. To be able to ignore everything that had happened, and the thoughts of everything that might happen, was nice. It also helped that the deserts’ sand had been warmed throughout the day, and although he knew the temperature would drop soon, he hoped it would wait until he’d fallen asleep. 

Crawley was awoken by the golden light of the morning. The heat shimmered across the sand is waves, distorting his view of the sand. Brown shrubs were dotted across the desert, their leaves dry and desperate for non-existent rain. In the distance he could see the walls of the garden, the grey rocks daring him to try and enter. A dare he decided to take up. 

He’d decided it was important that he saw whether his attempt at evil had been successful, it was only right that he knew what his temptation had come to, he decided. And his wanting to return to the garden had absolutely nothing to do with the strange angel he’d encountered, he told himself. 

Without much trouble, he located the angel, who seemingly hadn’t moved from the spot he left him in the previous night. 

“Psst! Angel!” 

The angel looked over in surprise, “Crawley! What are you doing here?” 

“I came to see how my temptation had gone, and you seemed lonely, so I decided to say hi.” 

“Oh.” The angel continued to stare at Crawley in shock, “so how did the temptation go?” 

“Well there was a rather large hole in the wall, so I assume rather well.” He couldn’t help but feel a moment of pride at what he’d done. Nothing to drastic, just enough to cause some trouble. 

“That was you?!” The angel hissed. 

“Yeah. I did a pretty good job didn’t I.” 

The angel sighed. Crawley supposed he couldn’t really agree with him, what with being an angel and all. 

“Wait,” Crowley exclaimed, looking down at the angels’ empty hand, “didn’t you have a flaming sword. It was all and big and flame-y, impossible to miss really. Did you misplace it?” 

The angel shifted awkwardly, “well, no. I gave it away.” 

The demon snorted with laughter, “you what?” 

“I gave it away. They just seemed to need it a tad more than me, she was pregnant.” He paused; a thought occurred to him. “You don’t think it was the wrong decision.”

Crawley shrugged, “maybe. Maybe letting them out of the garden was the right thing to do? It’d be funny if I did the right thing, and you did the wrong thing.” 

The angel looked at little sick at the thought, “no. Not really, no.” 

A silence fell over the pair. Although it wasn’t an awkward silence, more the kind that could be filled, but didn’t need to be. Below them the humans made their way deeper into the desert, the light of the flaming sword to guide them, grateful to the strange beings that had helped them. 

The angel sighed, it began to rain, “I suppose we can’t do anything about it either way.” 

The rain fell around them, a soft pattering to fill the silence. The angel raised his wing, shielding them both. 

The demon looked at him, “you never did tell me you name.” 

The angel smiled, “It’s Aziraphale.” 

“That’s nice. But I prefer angel.” 

In response, the angel only laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that the format keeps changing, i've settled on what i'm doing now so it won't change. 
> 
> i may have gotten sunglasses for first time in years and i 100% blame good omens.


	3. Armour and Dresses

**(about) 765 AD**

Aziraphale clunked through the woods, there was no other word for it, it could not be described as walking; it was far too slow for that. He didn’t like this era, far too much clunky armour. He missed Greece, the clothes were comfier, the food was better, and it was warm. Yes, Aziraphale decided, he missed Greece. 

The sound of clanking knocked him out of his thinking, through the mist a dark figure appeared. 

“Crowley? Is that you?” Aziraphale squinted through his metal visor. 

The clunking stopped, Crowley motioned to who Aziraphale assumed to be his men, “angel?” 

“Yes.” Aziraphale opened his helmet, now he had a clearer view, he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t realised that the dark armour belonged to Crowley. There was something very Crowley about it. “What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, you know, the usual temptation, damnation, and all that.”

“Then why do you have troops?” 

“They’re helping me.” 

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, it disappeared behind the top of his helmet. 

“I needed a guide through the woods.” Crowley admitted. 

“You could have asked me.” Aziraphale said, a little offended. 

“I didn’t know you were here!” 

“Fair enough. Then how did you get the armour?” Aziraphale started to motion vaguely at the armour, but then gave it up as a bad job, armour was far too heavy. 

Crowley pauses, opening up his own visor. “Ah.” 

“Ah?” 

“Well I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re wondering.” 

Aziraphale glared at him, “you didn’t steal it?” he replied slowly. He said each word carefully, trying to decide what exactly Crowley meant. 

“Yes.” 

“Then how did you get it?” 

“I borrowed it.” Crowley said innocently. 

“Permanent borrowing, I assume?” Aziraphale was doing his best to look angry, or at least disappointed, but instead he appeared mildly amused. 

“Well. Most likely.” After a rather awkward, clanking-filled pause, in which Crowley managed to scratch his nose, he said, “I rather like it.” 

Aziraphale nodded, “it is very you.” 

“It is very me? Whatever does that mean, angel?” 

Aziraphale panicked. What did he say to that? It suits you? I like it? Though he wasn’t really sure what his feelings towards the armour were. Did he like it? It was rather dark for his tastes, but he had to admit it really did suit Crowley. He stood there for several seconds, his brain racing in circles, eventually he blurted out, “I suit you!” 

Aziraphale immediately turned red, and not a light red, a proper red; like a London bus or a post-box. 

Crowley snorted, “steady on, angel.” 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say that! I just meant it looks nice on you.” Aziraphale stumbled over his words, desperate to clear up the misunderstanding. 

Crowley chuckled, shaking his head, “‘s okay. And thank you.” 

Aziraphale smiled, “you’re welcome.” 

**1773 AD**

Georgian fashion was wonderful, Crowley decided. Dressed in dark red skirts, outlined by black ribbon and silver beads, that made her bodice shine as she made her way through the softly lit halls, she felt alive. Alive and powerful. Looking across the mass of finely dressed nobles, she spotted Aziraphale, a candle flickered on the wall next to her, casting a warm glow across the face, the ringlets that framed her face shone. Crowley forgot what she was doing. Aziraphale was beautiful. 

‘no.’ She thought, shaking her head, as if trying to banish the thought from it.

Remembering the wine glasses in her hands, she began to fight her way through the crowd. 

She reached Aziraphale without spilling the wine, accidentally or purposely, although there was a close call with a stuck-up looking man. Crowley told Aziraphale as much, and she laughed, taking the wine from Crowley and taking a long sip. 

“It’s rather good.” 

“You would hope so,” Crowley laughed, “have you seen the crowd?” 

It was Aziraphale’s turn to laugh, but instead of replying, she took Crowley’s free hand and began leading her outside.

Crowley had turned bright red, “angel, where are we going?” 

“Outside.” 

“Great, cool, wonderful.” Crowley muttered to herself, looking down at their intertwined fingers, and ignoring the flutter her heart made. 

Aziraphale led her through the gardens, neatly trimmed bushes loomed above their heads, gravel crunched beneath their feet, and in the distance the sound of splashing water could be heard. A flower garden stood to their left, deep red roses stood intertwined with pure white ones, their thorns hidden beneath the delicate petals. 

“Angel, where are we going?” 

Aziraphale turned and smiled mysteriously at Crowley, “we’re nearly there.” 

“That’s not an answer.” Crowley whined. 

Aziraphale ignored her. 

Several minutes of waking later, Aziraphale pulled crowley down another path, this one was thinner than the gravel one they’d been walking down, its stones half-obscured by moss, the bushes that lined it unkept. The path came to an end a little way ahead of them, Crowley hoped this was where they were going. 

“Here.” Aziraphale stepped inside. 

Crowley followed her, then gasped. 

They were stood in a circular garden, the tall hedges gave the effect that they were stood in a wind tunnel to the sky; other than the lack of any wind, they could’ve been. The hedges stood tall and untrimmed, the occasional branch reaching into the circular garden. A spiral of flowers stood in the centre, Crowley was only able to identify some of them, red roses and yellow lilies, wildflowers interjected between them, all shades of red and orange. As it entered the garden the path became even more overgrown, it was almost completely covered in moss, and where it wasn’t weeds grew through crack in the stone. Only a gentle breeze brushed against Crowley’s cheek, not enough to move her skirts properly, they floated a little, not enough to be called dancing. 

Crowley looked over at Aziraphale, who was stood watching her. Her cheeks were dusted pink, and her eyes shone. Her cream dress hugged her body, then exploded into petals, streaked with blue, it shimmered in the half-light. All of her seemed to glow.   
“It’s beautiful.” Crowley breathed. 

‘You’re beautiful.’ She thought. 

Aziraphale bent down, her skirts falling around her, carefully, she picked a rose. She rose, then held out the flower to Crowley. Crowley stared at the flower, it’s petals so red they could be black, around the rim white had started to bleed into it. Some may have called it an imperfection. 

Taking the flower, Crowley smiled. “Thank you, angel.” 

Aziraphale smiled at her. Crowley carefully tucked the flower into her hair, sitting between her red curls, it looked right. 

Aziraphale laughed a little, then blushed a delicate pink. 

Bending down, Crowley picked a flower. She didn’t know what it was, but its yellow petals curled delicately upwards, and orange bled through its petals. It was a little strange and very beautiful. 

She stepped towards the angel, and carefully tucked the flower into her curls. Wordlessly, Aziraphale touched the flower, smiling to herself. 

“Sit with me.” She said, sitting down amongst the flowers, her blue and cream skirts around her. 

Crowley sat, her red skirts falling over Aziraphales. 

They stayed like that for a long time, neither cared to know how long. Crowley naming stars, she wasn’t sure how she knew the names of them, but she did. Aziraphale listened, her eyes shining, and her heart warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was very self-indulgent.   
> You can take ineffable wives in the 1700s out of my cold dead hands.   
> I promise they'll be actual Plot soon.   
> As always thank you for reading!


End file.
